


Awake and Alive

by OnMyShore



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied Nathan/Duke, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, References to Audrey/Nathan, slight reference to suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnMyShore/pseuds/OnMyShore
Summary: Duke Crocker is inarguably, irrevocably dead, the kind of dead you don’t come back from (not even in Haven), which is why Nathan feels like he should be more surprised that he wakes one night to see Duke inside his house.





	Awake and Alive

**Author's Note:**

> During the final season, I told my roommates, “If this show doesn’t end with Audrey, Nathan, and Duke riding off into the sunset, I’m going to be VERY disappointed.” They did not, in fact, ride off into the sunset. I was, in fact, VERY disappointed. This is my attempt to bring some justice for my poor boys, who deserve better than they got.
> 
> Unbetaed as hell, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I like to think they add to my charm.

The Troubles have only been gone a week, taking Audrey Parker with them, when Duke Crocker shows back up in Haven.  
  
That’s not entirely true. Duke is still dead, lying in a freezer drawer in Gloria’s morgue while the hospital is put back together around him. His whistle hangs on a nail next to Nathan’s bed, retrieved from Audrey’s desk after Nathan’s return from the armory, and his boat sits half-submerged in the harbor, another casualty of the sea monster Trouble that claimed the Gull. No, Duke Crocker is inarguably, irrevocably dead, the kind of dead you don’t come back from (not even in Haven), which is why Nathan feels like he should be more surprised that he wakes one night to see Duke inside his house.  
  
Nathan finds him in the living room, back to him as he stares out the window. He doesn’t turn as Nathan makes his way over, nor does he say a word as they stand next to one another, looking out into the darkness. The silence lasts a minute, a lifetime, maybe just a single heartbeat. Whatever the length, Nathan is the one to finally break it.  
  
“Guess you just couldn’t stay away, huh?”  
  
Duke finally turns to look at him. There’s the barest hint of a smirk on his all-too-familiar face. “You didn’t miss me, did you?”  
  
Nathan wants to throw his arms around Duke, pull him close and bury his face in Duke’s shoulder and not let go. Instead, he glances over and then back to the window; in his peripheral, Duke is still watching him.  
  
“Are you really here?” he asks. His voice is rougher than he’s like it to be.  
  
“As opposed to, what, not being here?” Duke tilts his chin towards the window. “I’m not out there.”  
  
“As opposed to, I don’t know, a hallucination, maybe? A figment of my imagination? Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”  
  
“Maybe you have. Maybe -” Duke points a finger at him, the gesture so familiar it aches - “maybe Duke Crocker never existed at all.”  
  
Nathan rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t dream up anyone who was as much of a pain in the ass as you.”  
  
“That's because you lack imagination.” Duke contemplates this for a few seconds, and Nathan allows himself to steal another glance. “To answer your question, though, I’m pretty sure I’m not a hallucination.”  
  
“I don’t know, kind of sounds like something a hallucination would say.”  
  
Duke’s smirk widens into a grin. “Fair enough. What‘s your professional opinion, Detective Wuornos? Am I a real boy?”  
  
The question is unexpectedly painful, jabbing at the still-tender spot left behind in the wake of Duke’s death and Audrey’s departure. The wounds are still fresh, haven’t had time to scab over and start to heal, and the sight of Duke here now threatens to start the bleeding all over again. Still, the ache isn’t entirely unwelcome; it’s a pain that reminds him of the people he’s lost, yes, but it also reminds him that they were there with him in the first place. He’d hold onto that pain with bath hands, wrap it around him like an old quilt, to keep the memories of Audrey and Duke close to him.  
  
Aware that Duke is still watching him, Nathan is suddenly struck by a different thought. “You can’t read minds, can you?”  
  
Duke gives him a withering look. “No, Nathan, dying did not give me super powers.”  
  
_Dying_. The word gives Nathan another jolt. “So you really are still… dead?”  
  
“Well, yeah, Nate, it’s death. It’s not exactly something you can just shake off.” Duke rolls his eyes, “Except you, of course. You had to be special.”  
  
“I’m not special,” Nathan mumbles, earning a snort from Duke.  
  
“I didn’t come all the way back here just to give you a lecture on self-esteem, Wuornos.”  
  
“Why _did_ you come back here?” Nathan turns to face him fully now, looks him square in the eye. Duke doesn’t turn away from his stare. He looks the same as he always has, dark eyes and dark hair with a bored expression masking an intuition as sharp as his own. Nathan wonders if he could reach out and touch him now, would he be as solid as he looks. He’s afraid to try.  
  
“Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here,” Duke says, after a moment. “Unfinished business?”  
  
It’s Nathan’s turn to snort. “Kind of cliché, isn’t it?”  
  
“You got a better idea, smart guy, I’d love to hear it.” There’s a pause. “And hey, just because it’s a cliché doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Especially in our case.” The words hang heavy between them, and Nathan can’t respond for the lump suddenly lodged in his throat.  Duke finally looks away, uncrossing his arms as he turns back to the window. “You doing okay, Nate?”  
  
The words cut through him. Suddenly he’s tired, exhausted right down to his bones. “Honestly, Duke? I’m not sure that I am.”  
  
“Finally, a little honesty. And to think, all it took was my untimely death. I’ll try not to take that personally.”  
  
“Well.” Nathan ducks his head. “Felt rude lying to a dead man.”  
  
Duke laughs, and Nathan feels something in his chest start to loosen, just a little.  
  
  
+++  
  
  
It’s been three days since Duke’s first middle-of-the-night visit, and Nathan is in bed, asleep, wrapped in at least three blankets he’s pulled up to his chin. Which is interesting, because Nathan is also standing at the foot of his bed, looking down at himself as he sleeps. The sensation leaves him feeling dizzy, and he turns back to Duke, who’s made himself at home in the armchair in the corner.  
  
“I’m not sure you have enough blankets,” Duke tells him with that familiar smirk.  
  
Nathan shrugs. “It’s a cold night.”  
  
“Not that cold. Come on man, you look like you’re sleeping in an igloo.”  
  
“I know, it’s just…” Nathan shifts his weight, glancing back at the bed. “Temperature has been tough, you know? I’m either too hot or too cold. It’s hard to get used to.”  
  
“I’d get that under control if I were you, Goldilocks.” Duke leans forward, elbows on his knees, and Nathan rolls his eyes.  
  
“It’s only been a week, give me a break.”  
  
“Ten days,” Duke corrects. “But who’s counting?”  
  
Ten days, that’s all, and it feels like so much longer. Ten days since the fog had lifted, and people had regained their lives and started to rebuild. Ten days of looking at the pieces of his world scattered at his feet and wondering if he should even try to start picking them up.  
  
“It’s just a lot, that’s all,” he murmurs. “I’m working on it.”  
  
“At least you’re sleeping tonight. Looks like it’s been a while, judging from the bags under your eyes.” Nathan shoots him a look and he adds, “Hey, no judgment, some people find that kind of thing very attractive. I’m just saying.”  
  
“Yeah well, some sleep, with you here bothering me.”  
  
“Would you say you were tired because I’ve been running through your dreams all night?” Duke wags his eyebrows as Nathan groans.  
  
“Pretty sure you got that backwards.”  
  
“I think it still fits.”  
  
“Figures you’d come all the way back from the afterlife for a cheap pick-up line.”  
  
“You’re not going to tell me it’s actually working, are you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Wouldn’t that make me the man of your dreams?”  
  
“Stop it.” Nathan ducks his head to hide a smile, but it fades when he looks back up and sees Duke watching him, expression turned thoughtful.  
  
“Man of your dreams,” he repeats, nodding slightly.  
  
“So now we know these are just dreams, and not, you know…real life.”  
  
“Well.” Duke leans back in the chair and stretches his legs out in front of him. “Who’s to say dreams and real life can’t be one and the same?”  
  
“I’m not sure that makes sense.”  
  
“This is Haven.” Duke shrugs. “I think this is the only place where it actually _can_ make sense.”  
  
“Maybe.” Nathan sits down on the bed but immediately stands again when he catches sight of his sleeping form. He doesn’t care what anyone else might say, it still feels weird sitting next to himself. About as weird as having a night-time postmortem conversation with a man he’d recently killed with his bare hands, really, but he’s trying not to think about that too much.  
  
“It’s funny,” he says after a minute. “Dwight saw you in person that day, but I’ve only seen you in dreams. Why do you think that is?”  
  
“Sense of urgency, maybe?” Duke suggests. “We’d be pretty screwed if I had to wait around for 'Squatch to take a nap.”  
  
“I’m not convinced he sleeps at all, to be honest with you.”  
  
“Or if he does, he leaves his eyes open. Like a shark.”  
  
Nathan huffs a little laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”  
  
Nathan wakes up in a room flooded with sunlight from the curtains he hadn’t bothered to close the night before. The blankets lay heavy on top of him, soft against his cheek.  
  
  
+++  
  
  
“What’s the afterlife like?”  
  
They’re in the living room tonight, seated on opposite ends of the sofa. Nathan’s poured them each a glass of whiskey, because what the hell, it’s his dream, right? In real life, he hasn’t had a drink since before the armory. Maybe he’s overdue.  
  
(He’s pouring from a bottle Duke had given him at one point or another. Neither one has mentioned it.)  
  
“The afterlife.” Duke hums as he swirls his glass. “It’s…weird.”  
  
“Weird,” Nathan echoes, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Yeah. It’s hard to explain, but it’s  not like…Heaven or Hell, I guess.”  
  
“Purgatory?”  
  
It’s Duke’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a Catholic thing? You didn’t convert while I was away, did you?” He takes a sip. “No, Nathan, I don’t think it’s Purgatory. It’s just whatever’s next.”  
  
“So what is it?” Nathan’s leaning forward, eager for an answer.  
  
“It just is.” Duke spreads his arms with his ld familiar smirk, and Nathan sits back, disappointed. He’s not sure why he was so desperate for an answer. Curiosity, maybe, a chance to see behind the curtain. Maybe he just wants to make sure that Duke’s okay (and by extension, Audrey), that all the people he’s loved and lost haven’t just succumbed to nothingness.  
  
“Water.” Duke’s voice interrupts his thoughts, quieter than before. “Where I am, there’s a lot of water. Like an ocean, only calmer, and more…vast. It looks like it goes on forever, and in the middle of it, there’s just me. Like it’s been there waiting for me this whole time.”  
  
“Sounds like it could get lonely.”  
  
“Nah.” Duke shakes his head. “It’s quiet, but that’s okay. After everything that’s happened, it’s nice not to have anything to fight against.”  
  
You’ve earned it, Nathan wants to tell him, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he says, “Do you ever see anyone else?”  
  
“Not yet. I’m sure they’re there, it just…no. I haven’t seen anyone else yet.” Nathan must look concerned, because Duke glances at his face and laughs. “Don’t worry, Mom, I promise I’ll try and make friends. I just…need some time, you know? To just let myself be. You have no idea what a luxury that is, Wuornos.”  
  
(Yes, he does.)  
  
They both sip their whiskey in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Nathan says, “Maybe that’s what the afterlife is. Maybe it’s just…peace.”  
  
“You know something? You might be right.” But he still seems troubled, and after a moment he says, “Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
Still, Duke hesitates, and takes another pull of whiskey. One finger taps restlessly against the glass. Finally, he says, “Could you feel it? When you killed me, could you…did you feel it? Did you feel anything?”  
  
Nathan’s heart is hammering so fiercely it threatens to claw its way out of his chest. He draws in one breath, and then another, forcing the air in and out of his lungs, and whispers, “No. I couldn’t feel anything.”  
  
“Good.” Duke looks relieved. “That’s good. I’m glad.”  
  
They both drain their glasses. The bottle is still sitting on the table when Nathan jolts awake on the couch the next morning.  
  
  
+++  
  
  
Nathan sleeps, and Duke comes and goes. Dwight comments on how he’s been looking better, and Nathan tells him a good night’s rest goes a long way. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough.  
  
(As close as Nathan is willing to get, anyway.)  
  
  
+++  
  
  
“Do you remember that conversation we had about destiny that day in the police station?”  
  
They’re sitting outside on the porch tonight, the light above the door casting an amber glow on the wood steps. Autumn is settling in and the nights are growing colder. Nathan’s wearing a sweatshirt and clutching a mug of tea. Duke seems unconcerned about the temperature, lounging on the bottom step in a button-down shirt, mug filled with whiskey instead of Earl Grey.  
  
“I do indeed.” Duke tilts his head up to where Nathan is leaning against the post. “I seem to remember us having a disagreement on the subject.”  
  
“You said our path was already set out for us.”  
  
And _you_ said that you believed we made our own futures.”  
  
“Yeah. I was just…I was thinking about it earlier, I don’t know why.”  
  
“Maybe you changed your mind and I’m here so you can tell me I was right all along.”  
  
“Mmm…No, I don’t think that’s it at all. Sorry.” He shoots a smirk at Duke, but the other man is looking down into his mug instead. He takes a long sip.  
  
“So you still think we form our own destiny?” he asks quietly.  
  
Nathan doesn’t respond right away. The question is more complicated now than when they were both alive, the words lying between them like a loaded gun. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I still believe that. I think it’s the choices we make that determine our future, not the other way around.”  
  
Duke nods, more in contemplation than agreement, before standing and stretching his arms above his head. Nathan starts, because he thinks Duke is going to leave and he’s never actually seen him go before, but Duke just walks up the steps to join Nathan on the porch, leaning his elbows on the white painted rail.  
  
“What I think,” he says, and Nathan turns to look at him, “is that maybe we get to make out own choices, and decide our own way, but it all leads to the same place in the end.” Duke’s face is in profile to Nathan, porch light casting shadows across his feature and making his expressions difficult to read. “Maybe there are things along the way we could’ve changed, stuff we could do differently, but in the end you and I were always going to end up here.”  
  
“What, me on my porch in the middle of the night talking to a dead man?”  
  
“Not for nothing, but I’m dead because you killed me.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I killed you because you told me to. I didn’t want to do it.”  
  
“That’s what I’m saying.” Duke turns to face him fully now. “That was always going to happen. Maybe the method would be different - maybe you killed me in a bar fight, I don’t know - but at the end of the day it was always going to be me dead by your hand. And all things considered, it could have played out a lot worse than it did.”  
  
Nathan frowns. “How do you figure that?”  
  
“Well, if that was my end point, I’d definitely take a mercy kill over cold-blooded murder. Hands-down. No question.”  
  
Nathan doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the idea of having no say in his own future. If fate was real, it was a real son of a bitch, and all the ways they’d suffered, all the things they’d lost, the ways this town had hurt them - all of it was simply because that was the way it was? Nathan finds this to be tremendously unfair. “You deserved better than that, Duke.”  
  
“Maybe.” Duke finally looks away. “But so did you, and so did Audrey. And Dave, and Jennifer, and your dad, and everyone else that had the bad luck to be born into a town full of supernatural bullshit. The universe doesn’t give a damn what we deserve.”  
  
“Are you sorry you came back?”  
  
“No.” Duke considers this for a moment. “But I’m sorry I had to. If I had my way, I would have left this place in my rearview years ago. But I was always tied to Haven, same as you.” Sliding Nathan a sideways glance, he adds, “That’s probably why you’re the one who’s left.”  
  
Nathan shakes his head. “It’s not what I wanted.”  
  
“So…what? You wish you were dead like me?”  
  
“No, look, I’m not saying that, I just-” Nathan gestures with the mug and some of the tea sloshes over the side onto his fingers, and it’s not hot enough to burn but it startles him all the same. He takes a moment to place the mug onto the ground, to collect himself lest all the thoughts that have been lying in wait these past week come spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them.  
  
Duke is watching him more closely. “Why am I here, Nathan?”  
  
The question catches him off-guard. “I don’t know, Duke, why don’t you tell me?”  
  
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea.” He raises his eyebrows. “All of eternity stretched out before me, but I’d rather sit in your crappy house drinking your whiskey?”  
  
“I’ve never known you to turn down free booze.”  
  
Duke snorts and drains his mug for good measure. They’re watching each other, but the mood has shifted, something heavy settling around them like fog. Nathan’s mind is racing, but a single thought it starting to take shape, to crystallize, sharp edges cutting through the rest of the noise. Maybe it’s been there this whole time and this is the first time he’s allowed himself to see it.  
  
“I don’t,” Nathan starts, and snaps his mouth shut. “I mean, I’m not,” but he can’t make himself finish the thought. The words spill across his mind like ink, spreading to the edges until he can't see anything else, and they have to come out because there’s nowhere else they can go and he can’t hold onto them himself anymore.  
  
“I don’t want to be the only left behind,” he whispers, and his hands are shaking. “I don’t want to be here alone.”  
  
If he was expecting to feel any relief at finally saying it out loud, he’s sorely disappointed. Instead, it settles heavy on his shoulders, the weight threatening to pull him down until he can no longer get back up. He can’t see anything past this moment, sins of the past blotting out any hope of the future, and it’s just him stumbling through the dark by himself.  
  
Then Duke puts his hand on Nathan’s, and it’s the first time they’ve touched since Duke started visiting him. It’s like an electric charge; Nathan’s thoughts flare bright white for just a second, and then fade until it’s just the two of them and the night.  
  
“I know,” Duke says, softer than Nathan has ever heard him. “I know, Nate. But it was always going to be you. It had to be.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because you’re a part of this place. Haven is in my blood, and I could never get away from that. And you know I tried. But for you it's the other way around. You’re a piece of Haven. You’ve always been exactly where you need to be.”  
  
“What if I don’t want it?”  
  
“I don’t think it matters,” Duke says. “Fate, remember? All roads lead to here?”  
  
“I could leave.”  
  
“You could. But you’re not going to find what you’re looking for anywhere else.”

"What am I looking for?"

"Well, Nate, I don't know. You're the one who has to decide that one, not me."

What Nathan wants is a way to make things right, to fix their mistakes. He wants to go back in time and take advantage of every opportunity he'd missed. He wants the impossible.  
  
“We didn’t have enough time," he says.  
  
“Yeah we did, we just didn’t use it right.”  
  
Duke’s hand is still on Nathan’s, and Nathan can feel the individual calluses on his fingers, as rough in death as he imagines they would be in life. Nathan wouldn’t know; the only meaningful touches they’d ever shares had been when he couldn’t feel anything. The last thing he’d felt from Duke in life had been the punches they had exchanged by the lake. He told himself after that it was anger that had triggered his Trouble that day, rage pulsing red hot through his veins, and he’s not entirely wrong about that. But if he allows himself to look back on that day, he can pinpoint the moment he felt something in his heart crack before everything went numb.  
  
Now he turns his hand over in Duke’s so their palms are touching, and when Duke doesn’t pull away he laces their fingers together. It’s the closest they’ve ever come to acknowledging this thing between them, though it’s colored every interaction they’ve ever had. Nathan had chosen Audrey without a second’s hesitation, never looking back at what he’d have to leave behind in exchange. And he knows it was the right choice. If fate was real, Audrey was his as much as Haven, and he’d go to her again in a heartbeat. But now, just for a moment, he wonders.  
  
“I loved her too, you know,” Duke says quietly, and the enormity of everything they’ve lost crashes on Nathan all over again. Duke’s hand is still in his, a lifeline from a dead man.  
  
The night is getting cooler, but Duke’s hand is warm in his as they stand shoulder to shoulder and let themselves be.  
  
  
+++  
  
  
“Audrey’s back.”  
  
Duke raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?”  
  
“Yeah.” Nathan looks over his shoulder to where Duke is leaning against the door frame. “Her name is Paige now. And she has a baby.”  
  
Duke nods, eyebrows raised. “That’s different. What does she remember?”  
  
“Nothing, so far. At least, I don’t think, anyway.”  
  
“She fooled you once with that, don't forget.” Duke points a warning finger at him.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Nathan waves him off. “It was…it took me by surprise, seeing her today. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again.”  
  
“And here she is.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“As Paige.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“She’s still in there, you know.”  
  
“I know.” Nathan does, in the same way that Sarah was in Lucy was in Audrey. But something about the way Duke says it - the certainty of it - makes him pause. “You knew she was coming back, didn’t you?”  
  
“You caught me,” Duke says, holding up his hands.  
  
Nathan considers for a moment, biting his tongue, before saying, “This whole time?”  
  
“No,” Duke says immediately, pushing himself off the frame. “No, Nathan, I swear on my own grave, I haven’t been playing games with you. She came to see me before she came back.”  
  
Nathan considers this. “I didn’t know that was possible.”  
  
“Yeah, well, the rules of eternity, right? Who can keep them straight?” Duke runs a hand through his hair. “She knew exactly where to find me, too. Came onto my boat and told me she was going back and oh by the way, here's my baby, and was there anything I wanted her to pass along to you?”  
  
“What did you tell her?”  
  
Duke gives him a slightly sheepish grin. “I told her I’d kind of been taking care of that myself.”  
  
Nathan rolls his eyes, and Duke protests, “Hey! Rules of eternity, remember?”  
  
“I’ll give you rules of eternity,” Nathan mutters, shaking his head.  
  
There’s silence except for the clock ticking down the late night minutes, and then Duke clears his throat and says, “So I think this is the last time I’m going to be here.”  
  
Nathan looks up sharply. “Why do you say that?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Duke shrugs, scuffing a toe against the wood floor. “Just a feeling I have, like we’re coming to the end. No more unfinished business.”  
  
_Like hell_ , Nathan thinks, but Duke can see the protests forming and he shakes his head with a sad smile.  
  
“End of the line for us, Wuornos. But hey, at least we got to spend a little more quality time together.”  
  
He says it as a joke, but there's a deeper meaning there that they both can feel. They’ve sacrificed for Haven, and Haven had taken with no thought of giving anything in return. Except, Duke is dead, but he’s here too, and maybe they can’t get back the time they’ve wasted but the universe has seen fit to give them that time now, extend the end game so they can have a chance to put things right between them. In Haven, perhaps that’s about as good as it gets.  
  
There will always be things that need to be said, and Nathan will always be looking for closure, but he’s been given so much more than most people ever get, and for that he’s grateful. So he takes a breath and looks Duke in the eye and nods.  
  
Duke nods back. “See you round, Wuornos.”  
  
They could leave it like that, and Duke could go back to the waters of eternity having tossed off a cool one-liner like he’s James Dean, but before he can disappear, Nathan crosses the room and pulls him into his arms, pressing his cheek into Duke’s shoulder the way he’d wanted to on that first night. Nathan can feel Duke’s arms around his waist, feel Duke’s nose pressed into the hair above his ear. If this is goodbye, Nathan wants to make it count.  
  
“Look for me when you get there,” Duke says softly. “Just don‘t rush it, okay?”  
  
“I promise,” Nathan whispers back, and means it. Duke’s arms tighten around him before they finally, reluctantly let go.  
  
Nathan has never seen Duke leave, and he doesn’t now. Duke simply walks out the front door like it was any other night, and when Nathan walks out onto the porch a few minutes later, there’s no sign anyone was ever there, other than a few dead leaves on the porch steps that scatter when the breeze picks up. Nathan takes one last look around and then goes back into the house, turning off the porch light and shutting the door behind him.


End file.
